State of Grace
by missmandamargo
Summary: A collection of related oneshots for Quinntina week 2013.
1. Part One

Part one: _& I never saw you coming, & I'll never be the same_

Quinn almost forgot all about Tina Cohen-Chang.

It isn't her fault – precisely. She and Tina never ran in the same circles, except for glee club, and save for a brief few weeks her senior year where Tina was particularly encouraging and helpful while Quinn was still recovering from her accident, they never spoke to each other much. Quinn wanted, when she left Lima, to keep in touch with the girls who were her sometimes friends, sometimes enemies during her high school career. She couldn't have known, then, that the Quinn Fabray that Lima came to know and fear/love/hate, is not the same Quinn Fabray that Yale and New Haven would come to know.

Growth isn't something you can plan for, and change often takes the path least expected. Quinn was a big fish in a small pond at McKinley – she graduated valedictorian of her class, after all, and maintained the best GPA of anyone this side of the '90s decade – but at Yale she's absolutely miniscule, and it definitely shifted things for her. Even though her last year of high school changed things for her, softening her and gentling her, Quinn is still a person who is used to being noticed – for good or ill.

Nobody notices Quinn at Yale. _Nobody._ Yale is full of pretty blonde girls with big brains, and Quinn is just one in a million.

It feels different – and she doesn't know if she wants to balk against the change and strive to be heard, or if she's more content standing out of the limelight, enjoying the world from a perpetually upstaged perspective.

The newer, gentler Quinn is the one who allows herself to be overshadowed, the one who sits in the back of lecture halls and doesn't raise her hand. But underneath that Quinn is still the old Quinn Fabray, the one who literally stabbed her best friend in the back to regain the title of cheer captain, three months after she gave her baby up for adoption, and didn't think twice about it.

For her first year at Yale, it feels like Quinn is living with a two-faced monster, and some days she is the quiet, humble girl on a quest for higher knowledge and broader understanding, while other days Cheerios captain Quinn Fabray comes out and risks spitting arguments with obnoxious sociology majors from rich old-money east coast families. It's earned her a few enemies and even fewer friends, but – strangely – the loneliness doesn't bother her; Quinn is used to the kind of lonesomeness that comes from isolation.

She remembers that, even in Lima, she was alone, no matter how many _friends_ she claimed to have.

Quinn lets her dad pay for a trip to Europe during the summer, and she skips out on Lima altogether. She gets an occasional e-mail from Rachel, a weekly video chat from Santana. Brittany sends her text messages. That's the extent of her connections with her old high school friends by the time she returns to Yale for the fall semester, and Tina Cohen-Chang is a person Quinn hasn't thought about since.. well.

It's like being shocked with a bucket of ice water when she runs into her at the lecture hall for their modern literature class. Quinn almost swallows her tongue when she catches sight of Tina – all freshman-year nerves and anxiety – sitting about three rows back, front and center. Quinn spends half a moment debating on whether or not to approach her, but then Tina glances her way and – well, her face lights up, and Quinn plasters on that good, reliable smile as she picks her way through the crowd of students.

Tina is almost buzzing in her seat, so excited to see someone from her old McKinley days. Quinn notices, immediately, that Tina's hair is long – swinging loose and free to her elbows – and the tips are lightened to a golden honey color. She thinks that it's appealing, and even though she's certain it's an outdated memory, all Quinn can really recall of Tina is that of her as a gothic freshman with fake vampire teeth and blue extensions.

"Long time, no see," Quinn says by means of greeting, and settles herself onto the tiny seat next to Tina. She tries to remain poised, holding onto some of wordliness and polish she's picked up from a year at Yale and three months overseas, but being around Tina feels like – well, it feels like Lima, all over again.

It isn't Tina's fault. It's not Tina's fault that Quinn has spent the last year and a half trying to run as far away from Lima and her past as she possibly can.

"I didn't think I'd see you!" Tina exclaims, and her smile takes up her whole face. "I thought about sending you a message on Facebook, but – who even checks those anymore?"

Quinn nods. "I certainly don't. What a pleasant surprise. I didn't even know you were applying to Yale."

Tina grins and shrugs. "It was a longshot, but I figured if they already took one McKinley alumnus, they might take another."

"I'm glad it worked out for you."

Quinn doesn't know what else to say, except for the perfunctory conversation fillers.

She doesn't want to ask, but she does it anyway: "How is everyone back home?"

Tina just shrugs. "Who do you want to know about? Artie?"

Artie is another person Quinn barely thinks about, if she can help it. "Sure. And, um –" Quinn tilts her head, trying to remember. "Mike? Mercedes? Have you heard from them lately?"

"Mercedes is still in California, as far as I know. Puck is back in Lima," Tina says, with a careful look at Quinn's face. "But you already knew that?"

Quinn shrugs. "I didn't. But it doesn't surprise me."

Tina gives her a small smile. "Mike is in Chicago. Artie got accepted into a videography program for UCLA. I heard Brittany was thinking about doing something like that, too."

Quinn shakes her head. "No, Brittany went to New York."

"Doesn't surprise me," Tina echoes Quinn's words about Puck, and they smile in unison.

The lecture starts, and they sit in tandem, taking notes. Quinn pulls out her tiny Macbook and Tina scribbles on a notepad, and Quinn thinks, fondly, of how she thought she would keep her notes by hand, too, on her first day of her first class.

When the time comes for them to leave, Quinn stops Tina just outside of the door, and puts her phone number into Tina's cell. "Call me if you want to get lunch."

Tina calls, and they grab lunch after Quinn's gender studies course and Tina's college algebra. It isn't as awkward as Quinn had originally imagined it might be – and though Tina has all the secrets of Quinn's past locked behind her eyes, Quinn is reminded, every time they settle into place with hers, that Tina never judged her too harshly. Tina was never one of the people on the sidelines, calling for Quinn's blood at every misstep. And, she remembers, little by little, the way Tina helped her when nobody else even realized that she needed help.

Tina knows about things Quinn hasn't talked about in months; she knows about Beth, and about her tattoo, about the accident. Quinn knows things about Tina, too, that maybe Tina might have wanted to forget – her fake stutter, her dark eye makeup and how she was upstaged at almost every turn by Rachel or Santana or Mercedes. Quinn thinks that it might be a good balance between them, the secrets they keep, and a kind of easiness comes with the familiarity. They were never friends, back in Lima, but Quinn thinks they might be able to become friends, now.

She wonders what herself of four years ago would make of this, willingly eating lunch with Tina Cohen-Chang. She wonders what Tina's old self would think of it, too.

Quinn supposes that might be the most marked difference of all, that she spends any time at all considering Tina and her thoughts.

Xxxx

They don't help each other study as much as they study together, because they're taking coursework on opposite ends of the spectrum. Quinn is impressed to learn that Tina voluntarily tested out of many freshman level courses, so she only has to take a few credit hours before she can technically classify as a sophomore. The new Quinn – the Quinn who got into Yale based off her 4.0 GPA and flawless attendance record and more extra-curriculars than she can even begin to name – envies Tina her brains and dedication. The old Quinn remembers, a little spitefully, that Tina was a faceless nobody in high school. It helps to keep her sufficiently kind, even when she's jealous and Tina preens over her hard-earned credits.

Tina's major is Women's, Sexuality, and Gender studies – something that doesn't surprise Quinn, exactly. Quinn is still undeclared, but she takes a lot of liberal arts courses, and she enjoys psychology and modern literature and she tries not to think too hard about how she'll have to figure it out, soon.

Tina is much more affable, much more personable than Quinn is, and Tina actually changes the tide of Quinn's social life as the semester climbs closer to an end. Quinn is mopey – she doesn't like to think of winter break and spending time with her mother over Thanksgiving, her father over Christmas, and then Santana, Brittany, and Rachel in New York for New Year's Eve – and Tina thinks it's because of midterms and crash studying and too many all-nighters fueled by Starbucks and energy drinks.

Tina has a lot of connections with the hyper-liberal raging feminist crowd, and she coaxes Quinn into going to a party the last weekend before midterms. Quinn doesn't admit it, but it's her first party at Yale, and it turns out to be everything she ever expected it to be: loud, crazy, and full of the students who could delicately be termed as _alternative._ Quinn sees more than her share of bizarre haircuts, facial piercings, and black clothing; the exact kids she would have avoided like the plague or tortured mercilessly at McKinley.

Tina introduces her to a few of her friends, and Quinn smiles, but she feels uncomfortable. Even the glee club kids, as strange as they were, did not prepare Quinn for this level of differentness.

Tina presses a red plastic cup into Quinn's hand, and Quinn gulps the bitter liquid almost gratefully. She wants to take the edge off of her discomfort. She wants to be loose and easy, like Tina is – she wants to laugh at these bizarre people, maybe even have conversations with them. It's times like this that she hates that the old Quinn Fabray still has her claws in her, sunk deep, and she can feel her whispering judgments and wrinkling her nose. But the old Quinn has served as a shield many times over the years, keeping her protected – so Quinn can never make the decision whether to keep her or throw her away. She doesn't know if that decision is even one she can make.

Tina gets drunk quickly, which is something Quinn remembers from the scattered birthdays and Valentine's Day parties and weddings they shared over their years together. Quinn is a little amazed at how small memories surface of Tina, ones she never even knew she had buried within her. They come through, bit by bit, and the alcohol seems to help it.

Quinn drifts away from Tina, the liquor making her bold, and she finds herself in the middle of a debate about intersectionality between a girl who reminds Quinn sharply of Santana, all hips and lips, and another with a pink mohawk. Quinn doesn't speak, but she's caught up by the passion of their words, which sound exotic and foreign even though they're things like _equality _and _feminism_ and _homophobia_ and _racism._

Quinn doesn't know how the conversation comes back to her, but one thing leads to another and – "I bet you were a cheerleader in high school, weren't you?" gets said and then, well—

Quinn doesn't know how, but she's doing a cheer routine in the middle of a group of wildly-dressed women with serious opinions about _everything _important.

Her spine aches, slightly, with the movements, but Quinn doesn't feel it, because the rum makes her numb.

She's startled when Tina appears out of nowhere and then takes up the cheer beside her, mirroring her claps and leg movements precisely. Quinn finds this _hilarious,_ because Tina _hated_ the Cheerios (that's one of those wiggly little memories she didn't even know she had), and she ends up losing her rhythm due to laughter. Tina laughs, too, and then they're clutching at each other and the loose circle around them breaks, off to find something else more entertaining.

"How did you _know_ that?" Quinn almost chokes on her own laughter.

Tina smiles, her face flushed. "I joined the Cheerios my senior year, for about a month."

"Really?" Quinn is surprised. "You?"

"I know," Tina gives a small, self-effacing nod. "I did a lot of strange things."

"I did, too," Quinn admits.

Tina giggles. "Your pink hair."

"Hey! You're one to talk – didn't you have purple in yours at some point?"

"I never pierced my nose,"

Quinn laughs, even though the reminder hurts. Quinn laughs through the pain, because it's easier than crying, and she doesn't want to feel angry.

Tina smiles at her good-naturedly, and Quinn realizes that the remark wasn't meant to wound her. It was just a fact, stated, no more or less. The comprehension eases the hurt, a little bit, and Quinn squeezes Tina's hand in her own.

When they walk back to their dorm rooms, they do it with arms snugged tightly around each other's waists, singing _Don't Stop Believing_ at the tops of their lungs.

* * *

Quinn asks Tina to come with her to New York, but Tina declines. She has family stuff. Tina actually likes her family, unlike Quinn, who tries to find every excuse imaginable to avoid Judy and Russel Fabray.

Quinn spends New Year's Eve sitting on the stairwell with Santana outside of her loft-style apartment, who gets drunk on tequila and complains about Brittany, like she always does.

Somewhere between her third and fourth glass of wine, Quinn turns to Santana, abruptly, and shakes her shoulder a little bit. Santana was crying, some kind of hiccupping half-sob that is mostly crocodile tears, anyway.

"Do you remember -?" Quinn starts, like she always does.

"Yes," Santana replies, her eyes swollen and red. "I remember."

"I'm not gay," Quinn prefaces, and she swallows a huge mouthful of wine. "But—"

"You want to go again?" Santana asks, curiously. "It's been awhile, Q. And there's Brittany, now—"

"Yes, I know," Quinn doesn't know why talking about it still makes her cheeks flush, but it always does. "And it was great, Santana, but –"

"Brittany isn't here," Santana says with a shrug. They're fighting, and though Santana has spent the last two hours explaining to Quinn what the quarrel is over, Quinn can't be bothered to remember it.

"You love her," Quinn says, almost sighing. "This isn't about us, Santana."

"I love her," Santana echoes, almost morosely. "I think she has a crush on Rachel."

"_Really_?" Quinn can't help the way her eyebrows fly up on her forehead. She never would have imagined anything like that – "Doesn't Brittany _hate_ Rachel?"

"Yes!" Santana almost shouts. "But living with the midget kind of – it does things to you!"

"No," Quinn can't help the way she grins. "You're joking."

"Shut it, Quinn," Santana replies defensively. "It was a year ago."

"Is _that_ what you're fighting over? You're both jealous of Rachel?"

Santana nods miserably, and she looks so pathetic that Quinn almost feels sorry for her. Almost.

"I can't believe you," Quinn narrows her eyes. "Who else have you slept with? Anyone I should know about?"

Santana shakes her head quickly, pulling her legs up to her chest.

"Are you sure? What about Mercedes? You guys were pretty close."

"_You_ lived with her," Santana retorts angrily. "Is there something you need to tell me?"

Quinn just laughs.

"What were you saying, Q? Are you hot for your dormmate?"

"What? Louisa? No. She's awful, actually." Quinn scuffs a fingernail over the concrete. The air is freezing, the pavement down below crusted with ice. But inside Kurt and Rachel are having a furious game of Broadway Trivia and Brittany left two days ago to spend New Year's with her parents, and so Quinn and Santana huddle together on the stairwell, tucked beneath layers of clothing and two thick quilts. Quinn barely feels the cold, but she thinks that's due to alcohol.

"Who, then?" Santana smiles the same slow, feline smile that made Quinn shiver the first time she ever saw it.

"It's, ah.." Quinn rubs her nose, suddenly bashful. It feels surreal to be talking about it, but then again – this is Santana, a girl who, by all rights, is in no position to judge Quinn, but who, unfailingly, does it anyway. "It's Tina."

Santana's face blanks for a solid second before her eyebrows shoot upwards. "Girl Chang? Really? Are you guys, like, Skyping or something?" Santana's face wrinkles. "Did she even graduate?"

Quinn sighs. "She goes to Yale. We've gotten pretty close this past semester."

"No kidding?" Santana hums, pulls a lime wedge into her mouth, and sucks on it. Then she nods, almost as if in understanding. "You know, that isn't that shocking. I think she hooked up with Brittany once, like, sophomore year."

"_What_?" Quinn's jaw drops. "How didn't I know about that-?"

Santana shrugs. "You didn't even know her _name_ back then, Quinn, and Brittany has hooked up with practically everyone. I still have my suspicions about her and Berry," Santana's eyebrows draw together speculatively, and she leans back to peer in at Rachel through the window. "That mustached little cretin can't keep her eyes away from Brittany."

Quinn just sighs. Before Brittany moved in, Santana was good friends with Rachel, and even though it makes her nostalgic for their days as the twin terrors of McKinley, she can't let Santana forget that.

"Be nice to Rachel. It isn't her fault Brittany has a hot body."

Santana jerks around to glare at Quinn. "Not you, too!"

Quinn just shrugs. "What? You think nobody else ever noticed?"

Santana groans. "I never thought I'd be saying this," She huffs, pours herself another tequila shot. "But I miss the days when everyone was straight, and I was the only lesbian I knew."

Quinn can't help but laugh. "I'm not a lesbian."

"You say that," Santana says, gesturing with her shot glass. "But this is how it all starts – you fall in love with your best friend and then, suddenly, you're singing Melissa Etheridge songs and getting a rainbow tattooed on your ass."

"_You're_ my best friend."

Santana sighs, gives a little shake. "Maybe," She tosses the shot back, barely grimacing at the gross burn. "But you have this thing for Tina, and she's a friend, probably your best friend at Yale. It isn't any different."

Quinn shakes her head in denial. "I'm not going to be a lesbian, Santana, just because I have a – a _curiosity_ for Tina."

"Whatever you say, Q," Santana smiles wryly. "You give me a call once you have your tattoo picked out. We'll go together."

"Stop," Quinn tries to sound stern, but she's overwhelmed with affection for Santana.

"Hey, do me a favor?" Santana turns around to peer inside the apartment again. "When it gets to midnight, will you kiss Kurt? I want Rachel. It'll drive Britt crazy."

Quinn blinks. "She wouldn't be jealous if you kissed me, instead?"

Santana's face crinkles. "You know, I never thought of that! Maybe she would be!"

* * *

Quinn's awful roommate, Louisa, never comes back from winter break. Quinn spends exactly two days pondering this before she finds Tina, an RA, and a housing advisor. Tina moves in without much fuss, and Quinn feels a like a weight has been lifted. She's had a series of bad roommates – and she thinks it might have more to do with the fact that she's never had to share anything in her entire life, much less her living space, than it has to do with the actual other parties – but she's optimistic about Tina.

Tina isn't messy, which is a huge relief to Quinn. Quinn has dealt with people who range on the full spectrum of clutterbugs – from trainwreck-Santana Lopez-bad to Emma Pillsbury-obsessive-clean, and Quinn considers herself to fall just a notch or two below Ms. Pillsbury. She gets along best with other Ms. Pullsburys. She used to get into scathing, knock-down, drag-out fights with Santana when they were forced to share a hotel room together on out-of-town trips for Cheerios competitions. Quinn is no longer the type to physically attack people who annoy her (well – Santana is an exception) but she has mastered the art of passive aggressive feuds. Her first roommate, Grace, requested a change of dorms within two months of living with Quinn.

Quinn is particularly proud of that one.

It isn't all sunshine and cupcakes to have Tina as a roommate, though. Tina snores, and it drives Quinn crazy – Tina hates that Quinn goes to sleep later and wakes up earlier than she does. They squabble, but it's nothing like the type of brooding, seething rage Quinn used to have for Louisa, so she considers it an improvement. For the most part, they learn to live together; Tina is considerate in a way Quinn never realized – Tina remembers to bring Quinn a midday mocha frappe, extra whipped cream, even though Quinn hates herself for drinking them. Quinn gets in the habit of putting Tina's favorite tea on before she leaves for her morning run.

Quinn gets glimpses of Tina naked, here and there, because their dorm is the size of a matchbox and there's no avoiding it. She sees Tina wrapped up in towels and in varying states of undress, and it always makes her heart kickstart in her chest. Tina catches her looking, once or twice, but never says anything. She smiles, sometimes, a secretive smile, but Quinn tries not to think about it.

Tina gives Quinn a tiny silver charm bracelet. The day she gives it to her happens to be February fourteenth, and Quinn never asks about it – but once Tina slips the bracelet on her wrist, she never takes it off, either.

"Let's go someplace warm for spring break," Quinn suggests, because New Haven is still covered in a layer of snow by mid-March and she's dreaming of Palm Springs, beaches, and bikinis.

"My mother wants me to come home," Tina says, and her tone is apologetic – truly. Quinn can tell that Tina wants to go with her instead of going back to Lima.

"I went home for every break my first year, too," Quinn says, remembering. "I hated it."

Tina gives Quinn a half-smile. "I couldn't afford someplace warm, anyway,"

"My father would have paid for it." Quinn shrugs.

"Maybe next year."

Quinn thinks about it, and then she sighs. "I guess I'll go back to Lima, then, too."

"What's Santana doing?" Tina is packing a duffle bag, and she looks up curiously at Quinn. "Wouldn't she love to go with you?"

"Maybe," Quinn hasn't talked to Santana in a few weeks. She wonders what ever came of the drama between her, Brittany, and Rachel. It makes her smile, and then it reminds her of—

"Hey, Tina.."

Tina glances up.

"Santana told me something kind of funny, once – about you and Brittany?"

Tina pauses, and then her face splits into a wide smile. "She told you about that?"

Quinn nods, and Tina's smile is contagious – she finds herself grinning right along with Tina.

"How funny. It was years ago." Tina's smile fades, then, and her eyes widen. "Santana isn't _mad_ about that, is she? Oh my gosh—"

"No, no," Quinn laughs at Tina's momentary panic. "I just wondered if it was true, or just some rumor."

"Oh." Tina shrugs, continues shoving jeans into her duffle bag. "Yeah."

There's silence between them for a moment, while Quinn scrolls through her phone and Tina finishes packing.

"I heard that you and Santana – um." Tina's back is still to Quinn, and she seems almost shy. It's funny, because _this_ is the Tina Quinn remembers most, and this is the Tina Quinn hasn't seen hide nor hair from since classes started in August.

"Yes," Quinn admits it, though it makes her face darken. "How did you know?"

Tina rolls her head, even though she isn't facing Quinn. "I just heard it, around. I actually heard that there was some kind of – uh, thing, between you guys."

Quinn almost chokes. "_What?_ Seriously?"

Tina turns around slowly. "It was just a rumor."

Quinn rubs at her forehead uncomfortably. "We did kind of have a thing, sort of. I guess. I mean – it was months ago, now. It was never.. um, it was never serious."

Tina sits down carefully on her bed. Quinn looks up from her lap, and the pair of them stare at each other in heavy, awkward silence for a moment.

"It wasn't a relationship." Quinn doesn't know why she feels the need to defend it, what she had with Santana. "It was just – a string of hookups. It went on for a little while, and then stopped when she decided to get back with Brittany."

"I see." Tina bites her lip. "So, on New Year's, you didn't-?"

Quinn laughs. "No. We're just friends."

"Friends who used to have sex,"

"Yeah," Quinn says thoughtfully. "But the same could be said of anyone in the glee club with us."

Tina smiles, then. "You're right."

Quinn thinks she understands, now, some things – the peculiar way Tina brings up Santana, how she shies away from invitations to New York. It makes things a bit clearer.

"So.. are you coming back to Lima, then?" Tina asks.

Quinn nods. "Yes, I think so."

* * *

Tina wants her to go to a St. Patrick's Day party with some of her old classmates, the ones still in high school. Quinn is skeptical, because _really?_ She doesn't even know those kids, and – though some of them are only a year, maybe two, younger than she is – they seem so small and young, so childish. But Tina convinces her, mostly with gentle pleas and a wide grin, so Quinn acquiesces, even though she hates the idea.

She wears a loose green sundress that fans open at the knees, white sandals and a white cardigan. Tina picks her up at her house and Quinn almost laughs at the jade-colored extensions she has in her hair, because they're so Tina circa 2010, and for some reason it makes Quinn both nostalgic and affectionate. Tina grins at Quinn's appreciation, and Quinn thinks that her choice of dress is appropriate – it's tight and clingy, and stops about mid-thigh. It matches the streaks in her hair and her glittery eyeshadow. They walk, arm-in-arm, to Tina's car.

The party is at a boy named Ryder's house, and Quinn thinks she remembers him – vaguely – from Thanksgiving last year. There are a few people she recognizes, like Kitty, and that Marley girl that Santana was so protective of. She remembers Puck's little brother, Jake – and, lo and behold, Noah actually makes an appearance as well.

It's always strange for Quinn to see him, now that she isn't seeing him every day. Quinn looks at him and she remembers Beth, and she wonders if it's possible to have created another human being with someone and not be inextricably connected to them, forever. Quinn wonders if she'll always carry Puck with her, the same way she carried their baby inside of her. It's a sobering thought, and not the one she wants to have; she waves to him and then follows Tina into the kitchen.

There are goldschlager shots lined up on the counter, as well as shots composed of sour apple pucker and vodka. Quinn grimaces at the choice – but it _is_ St. Patrick's Day, after all – so she takes the vodka shot, and then another. Tina laughs at the squinty face she makes, and then she downs her own. Quinn doesn't like shots – she's more of a cocktail drinker – but she knows she's going to have to get drunk fast to survive this party.

Before she knows it, she has a green top hat on and she's laughing, trying to hold herself perfectly still while Tina draws a shamrock on her cheek. Everything feels loose and warm – Quinn's face is flushed and her lips are red – and she has to hold on to Tina to stay upright. Tina takes her weight easily, and doesn't let her go once the shamrock is complete; instead, she holds Quinn's arm with both of hers, and they wobble through the house together.

It's full to bursting with people Quinn doesn't recognize, and she wonders how so many baby-faced kids are able to come together like this. She wonders if it's being away that's done this to her, or the fact that her twentieth birthday is sneaking up on her at the end of April. Logically, she knows that twenty isn't old, but it feels different, somehow – she won't be a teenager anymore.

Tina tugs Quinn towards the back of the house, away from the bulk of the party. The music dims the further away they get, and Tina surprises her by pulling her through a door and outside. The air is crisp, almost freezing, and Quinn can see that snow still lingers in the more sheltered parts of the yard. The grass is yellow and dead, and immediately, Quinn pulls closer to Tina. Tina seems to be chuckling quietly to herself, but that's something Quinn has come to expect - Tina likes to giggle, a lot, especially when she's drinking. Quinn thinks it's kind of endearing, especially the way Tina's face swells with a perpetual grin.

"What are we doing out here, Tina?" Quinn asks quietly, and her words fog in the night air. She isn't drunk enough to be impervious to the cold, and she wishes she would have worn boots, like Tina did, instead of sandals.

"I just wanted a minute alone with you," Tina says, and swings around to face Quinn.

Quinn finds herself smiling more easily around Tina than she ever has around anyone else in her life, and for some reason, Quinn doesn't question it. She pushes Tina's hair behind her ear, and marvels at the thick weight of it – she's always thought that it was pretty, but she never had the chance to touch it much. She's surprised by how heavy it hangs, how thick it is, and she keeps her fingers in it, with the meat of her palm resting on Tina's cheek.

Tina watches her, with that silly grin in place, and finally she closes the distance between their bodies, snaking her hands up to cup Quinn loosely on the forearms. "Kiss me, Quinn,"

Quinn studies her face for a moment, biting her lip. Tina is shorter than Quinn, but their choice in footwear helps to make up for the difference a bit – Tina only has to angle her head slightly to make eye contact. When she finally leans forward to press her lips to Tina's, she catches the sharp sound of Tina inhaling right before they make contact – and at first, it feels almost like nothing, because their lips are numb both from the wind and alcohol. Still, Quinn feels the heat building, beginning behind her solar plexus and moving outwards, and when Tina kisses her harder, Quinn hums deep in her throat. Tina tugs at Quinn, almost insistently, and by the time Tina's tongue slips into Quinn's mouth, Quinn is almost grinning.

Quinn has time to think – _Tina doesn't kiss like Santana_. Tina is almost shy, especially at first, and even when she's more demanding, there's no aggression there. Quinn finds her a sweet, gentle kisser, and it makes her heart rise in her chest, almost aching. Tina slides her arms low on Quinn's waist, molding their bodies together, and Quinn groans appreciatively at the feeling of Tina so close, them breathing the same air. Tina's kiss takes on more force, then, and the sharp scrape of her teeth along Quinn's lower lip has her breath hitching in her throat. She tugs on Tina's hair, and presses hot, wet kisses to the side of her face, beneath her jaw, and then finally to her neck. Tina moans, low, and Quinn feels her belly tighten.

"Quinn," Tina grunts. Her movements have become more frantic and demanding, and she's clearly frustrated with the dress Quinn wears. Quinn laughs quietly, charmed by Tina's impatience, and finally peels away from her. Tina's face is pink and her eyes are glittering. Her lips are parted slightly, and Quinn can tell she's panting – her chest is heaving.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Tina asks. Quinn thinks her impatience is endearing.

"Not yet," Quinn says. She can tell Tina is surprised by her answer. She cups Tina's forearms with her own, so that they hold each other, but there's still space between their bodies. "I want to, Tina. I really do." Tina cocks her head in question. "But I don't want it to happen just because – just because we're drunk, and it's spring break."

Tina watches Quinn, silent for a moment. Her face is hard to read, because Quinn doesn't know how much of it is actually Tina, or how much of it is the alcohol.

"What are you saying?"

Quinn shrugs. "Maybe I want more with you."

Tina bites her lip.

"I like you, Tina." Quinn says it, finally. She's found, in all her history of blunders and mishaps, that simply stating something is usually the easiest way to get it off her chest. "You're one of my best friends, but – I don't know. I think it could be more."

Tina still doesn't say anything, and it makes nerves gallop in Quinn's stomach. "And, um – if you don't feel the same way, that's okay." Quinn swallows. "That's perfectly okay. But I don't want us to.. complicate anything. I like you, Tina, and if we have sex, I'm just going to like you more."

Tina nods slowly.

Quinn waits, and she tries not to shy away from Tina's eyes. It's hard to stay completely still and let someone look at you, just you, when you've said something honest and real.

"Okay, Quinn. We don't have to complicate things."

Quinn sucks in a breath, lets it go with a nod. Her heart feels sore and bruised, but she squeezes Tina's arms anyway.

When she turns to pull away from Tina, putting distance between their bodies, she's stopped by Tina holding on to her. "Wait. I meant I want to try it. We can wait. We can do whatever you want."

Quinn frowns, tilting her head at Tina. Her confusion must be obvious, because Tina breaks out in a huge smile.

"I like you, too, Quinn."

Quinn smiles, really smiles, and she feels like her chest is filled with light. She laughs, quietly, and lets Tina pull her close. They hold onto each other, and Quinn can smell the green tea shampoo Tina likes to use beneath the perfume she dabbed in the crook of her neck. Quinn buries her face in Tina's hair, and she can hear Tina breathing, the wild rush of her blood through her veins.

"I'm really glad," Quinn whispers, and Tina laughs.


	2. Part Two

Day 02: _this is a state of grace, this is a worthwhile fight_

When the semester ends, Tina decides to stay and take summer courses.

They've been dating, for lack of a better word, since that cold day in March, but when the middle of May comes around it doesn't feel like any time has passed at all. Quinn has learned all the subtleties of Tina that she never noticed before – and she's beginning to think that Tina is a mosaic of subtleties, composed entirely of gentle moments; sort of like when a camera flashes out of nowhere, and the background becomes the focus of the picture, rather than the intended target. There are still hard corners, of course, like there is to any person, but around Quinn they just melt away and become a nonissue. Tina is sweet and kind and loving to Quinn, with just the right amount of strength to keep Quinn grounded, and just the right amount of spice to keep Quinn from being bored.

Still, Tina's constant need to overachieve sort of nags at Quinn in a subtle, unnamed way. Quinn was going to surprise Tina with a trip to Greece, paid for entirely by one Russel Fabray, but Tina got to the punch line before Quinn had a chance. She loaded up her short summer months with labs in chemistry and astronomy and a poetry credit. Quinn recognizes that she feels a need to compete with Tina, like she always has felt the need to compete with anyone she considers to be even remotely as intelligent, or as attractive, or as talented as she is. It's a stubborn, insistent urge, and she has to squelch it down. Quinn battled with the desire to stay on campus and take courses through the summer, too, and forfeit her vacation in Greece – but, in the end, the new and improved Quinn wins out. Quinn genuinely wants to go to Greece, and she knows that if she spends a straight year locked up in New Haven, she'd lose her mind. Quinn's been there – literally – and it isn't worth it.

The downside to this is, of course, the fact that she'll miss Tina. It's kind of like a cold slap of reality when she realizes that Tina made plans and didn't consult her; she realizes that she did the same thing by assuming Tina would come with her to Greece. It makes Quinn feel disjointed and put off, but she wants to enjoy Tina without making it complicated or messy. So instead, she spends their last weeks together trying to make the most of it, even though they have to cram for finals and have almost no alone time. Quinn and Tina would be in that phase of a relationship where they spend every moment together, cut out all other friends, and basically make everyone disgusted with their googly faces and baby talk, if they actually had the ability to do any of this. Instead, they have furtive hours in the dark, stolen between morning classes and late night study sessions. They have baggy-eyed breakfasts composed of muffins and iced coffees, lunches that are often things like pretzels and Pepsi over notecards and textbooks. Dinner is usually forgotten – unless one or the other remembers it, and then it's Chinese takeout or pizza or stale sandwiches from the café. They don't talk, much, unless it's about the annoying frat boy in Quinn's art appreciation class or the necessity of five hour energy shots between third and fourth class.

Quinn thinks that, overall, they picked a shitty time to begin a relationship, and just when things would be better – just when they would have some time to _breathe _– they're going to be apart.

When the semester finally draws to a close, and Quinn passes all of her classes with perfect grades (of course), she decides to push off her vacation for a few weeks. Tina's summer semester doesn't begin until the first week of June, so she takes Tina to New York to see Manhattan in the early summer. They decline the invitation to stay with Santana, Brittany, Rachel, and Kurt – because Tina still isn't quite _there _yet, especially not around Santana and Brittany, who both think the thing between her and Quinn is precious and tease them both mercilessly at every opportunity (Facebook comments and snide text messages, for the most part). Quinn is understanding – she doesn't want to sleep on her friends' lousy pull-out mattress, anyway – and instead she treats Tina to a swanky hotel room. They do the things in New York City that Tina has never had the chance to, like stroll through Central Park and walk around the Natural History Museum. Quinn buys ice-cream cones from street vendors, and Tina buys knock-off purses from tall, skinny guys in long coats.

"I don't want it to end," Quinn murmurs into Tina's bare shoulder, on their last night in Manhattan. Tina runs her hand through Quinn's hair, and then down, drifting along the soft plane of her arm.

"Me either," She hums.

Quinn shifts, rolling onto her stomach, and she peers down at Tina. Tina's hair is a messy black stain on the pillows, and she has a lidded, sated expression on her face. Quinn smiles, because seeing Tina like that is one of her favorite things – it always brings her a rush of pride, and she _knows_ that it's silly and egotistical, but _damn_ – and she feels warmth settle somewhere behind her ribs.

"Drop your classes," Quinn says it in a rush. "Come with me to Greece."

Tina's eyes widen in surprise, and then she just laughs, a tiny, tinkling sound. "Quinn, you know I can't. I think I'm – well, I think I'm going to get a double major. I need to take these classes."

Quinn sighs, even though she knew it was a longshot anyway. "Don't you ever get _bored_ with being so responsible? Don't you ever just want to do something – irrational?"

Tina smiles, so sweetly, and she pushes a lock of Quinn's hair behind her ear. "I did do something irrational, once. It's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Quinn can't help the way her grin washes over her face. "You're such a sweet talker,"

Tina laughs. "I learned from the best."

Quinn picks up Tina's hand, kisses her knuckles. "I'm going to miss you. So much."

"Me, too." Tina brushes her thumb over Quinn's bottom lip. "Don't meet any tall, muscled Greek hunks and fall in love, okay?"

Quinn shakes her head. "You stay away from curvy brunettes with loud attitudes."

Tina smirks. "Isn't that more your type?"

Quinn's eyebrows rise speculatively. "Don't think I don't notice the way you look at Carissa, the girl from my study group. Or even Santana or Rachel, for that matter."

Tina laughs, shaking her head, and then she shifts them suddenly, rolling so that Quinn's back hits the mattress. Tina straddles her, the sheet falling away from her body, and Quinn grins, amused, up at Tina. Her hair hangs in a long curtain around them, and Quinn wants to reach for her, to pull her face closer.

"It's just you, Quinn." Tina says, pushing Quinn's wrists back to the pillows. "Only you."

Quinn smiles, and she lets Tina prove it to her three more times before they finally go to sleep.

* * *

The worst part of being an ocean away from Tina – apart from the distance in general – is the time difference. Quinn is halfway between lunch and dinner when Tina gets up in the morning, and their schedules make it almost impossible to communicate during the bulk of the day. Quinn spends her time walking around Athens, visiting museums and climbing the rolling hills. She takes pictures of the landscape, the architecture, and the people, all of which fascinate Quinn in different ways. Last summer, she did a tour of all the major cities in Europe, and the ten-week vacation seemed to fly by in a haze of color and motion and noise. She thinks she prefers it this way, settling into a bed and breakfast, and spending her days discovering one of the most ancient civilizations on earth. She takes day trips out to Crete, spends four day weekends hiking on Naxos, visits the clubs on Ios.

The innkeepers' son is seventeen and gorgeous, in a lanky, sun-kissed way; he offers to teach Quinn Greek, and flirts with her over breakfast. Quinn thinks he's charming, and she mispronounces his name just to hear him correct her. She thinks if he were older and this were a different life, she would make love to him on her squeaky, lumpy mattress, and take away the satisfaction of having a true summer fling without regrets.

Instead, she keeps herself warm with her laptop most nights, catching up with Tina's day as it happens. Tina's classes keep her busy until six p.m. her time – which pushes Quinn into the next day, at midnight. They e-mail back and forth occasionally throughout the day, but don't text or talk much, because of phone bills. Sometimes, Tina goes straight back to her dorm in order to Skype with Quinn before she goes to bed; but most of the time, Tina has things she has to do after class – and whole days go by where they don't say one word to each other. Those days were hard on Quinn, at first, because she had done her best to immerse herself in Tina, and the absence of her was a sharp and poignant pain in Quinn's heart. She feels lonely again, for the first time in a long time, and even though she goes out and has the experience of a lifetime by day, she misses Tina's soft, warm weight against her by night.

Occasionally, Quinn stays up late enough to catch Tina before she goes to bed, and they talk into their laptop screens until Quinn falls asleep on her pillows. Sometimes, Quinn wakes up the next morning and their connection is still intact, and she can just make out the shadowy outline of Tina on her tiny dorm mattress. Quinn knows she's at risk of burning her laptop out, fast, and it worries her for Tina's, sometimes – but she is still glad, secretly, on those mornings. She wishes she could reach through her screen and press the meat of her palm to the small place on Tina's back, the one that always makes her relax and curl into Quinn slowly, like a cat stretching out on the floor. She wishes she could tangle her fingers in Tina's hair, and twine their limbs together. Some mornings, Quinn stares at Tina, and daydreams about weekends at her parents' lakehouse, where they won't do anything besides sleep and eat and make love.

For every day that Quinn has without Tina, she imagines a day she would like to spend with her – for every new food she tries, she thinks of whether or not Tina would like it. It gets easier, as the weeks progress, and she doesn't feel as achingly lonely, because she adjusts to her singular adventure.

On one of her trips to Crete, she spots a group of people surfing, and Quinn thinks that will be the best way to spend the rest of her vacation. She gets a feel for the ocean, which is in some places as dark as an ink drop, and in others, so clear that Quinn imagines she can see the bottom of it, many fathoms below. Another man, this one much older, with shaggy brown hair peppered with gray, finds her swimming one day with her surf board. His name is Orrin, and he also offers to teach Quinn Greek – but she knows she only has a few weeks left. Instead, she lets him teach her how to surf, and she finds that she has a certain knack for it.

Quinn spent most of her youth at cheer camps, in Cheerios practice, and dancing with the glee kids. Before that, she took gymnastics and ballet and – well, her body has been used to rigorous physical activity for nearly a decade now. The last two years she spent as an idle Yale student fall away after only a few lessons. Even though she is a little out of shape, her muscles learn the pattern of movements easily. In the early days, her hips and spine ache with the strain, and Quinn remembers – almost as an afterthought – the accident that crippled her. But she doesn't worry, for some reason; she finds it hard to worry at all about much. Orrin laughs and claps at her the first time she stands up on the surfboard successfully, and when she rides the smallest curl, he cheers.

Orrin is a happy, boisterous man, and he shares his wine and bread with Quinn. He tells her stories – stories about being young, touring the world, falling in love. His face is deeply wrinkled, but his eyes are a bright blue, and his chest and abdomen are chiseled and rock hard. He spends every day on this beach in Crete, and he enjoys talking to the tourists.

Quinn takes the things Orrin tells her and relays them to Tina, who watches her with affection in her eyes through her webcam.

"I think you have a crush," Tina says, and Quinn laughs.

"He's probably my grandfather's age, Tina."

"Still." Tina's smile is genuine, though, and Quinn knows she's joking.

"Well, what about you? Is Randy still your lab partner in chem? The guy with the red hair?"

Tina nods. "He's an idiot. He thinks quoting Plath makes him a cutting edge feminist, and _so_ clever." She rolls her eyes.

Quinn chuckles, and lays back in her bed, moving the laptop to sit on the pillow beside her. She angles it so that Tina can still see her face. Her body is warm and loose from a day in the sea, and she can feel the pleasant burn in her muscles. She feels sluggish and tired, and she knows her time with Tina is drawing to a close. Soon, she'll be drifting off, and Tina will let her.

"I miss you, T."

Tina sucks in a breath and lets it go, and something about it makes Quinn perk up.

"I miss you too, Quinn."

Quinn cocks her head, studying Tina.

"Are you okay?"

Tina nods, and slowly bites her bottom lip. It makes the corner of Quinn's mouth go upward in a smirk. "Are you sure?"

Tina lets out an aggravated breath. "I just – _really_ miss you, okay?"

"You keep saying that." Quinn can't help the way her face is widening on a slow smile. "I think you miss something else."

Tina groans emphatically. "I hate celibacy, Quinn. I was never in that club for a reason."

Quinn props her head up with her palm. "You don't just – take care of – yourself?"

Tina rolls her eyes. "Well, yeah. But it's not the same."

"Well.." Quinn smiles a slow, catty smile. "We could – help each other out?"

Tina scoffs at first, but the longer Quinn stares at the screen, the more solemn Tina's face becomes.

"Wait – are you serious?"

Quinn bites her lip, trying to suppress a grin. She nods slowly.

"Oh, wow." Tina blinks. "Quinn, I just never figured you'd –"

Quinn shrugs. "I miss you, too, Tina. Of course I do."

Tina sucks in a breath, and Quinn can see that she's eager. She moves so that her own laptop is lying on the pillow next to her, so it gives the illusion – to both of them – that they're lying side by side.

Quinn smiles, a little nervously, at Tina, and lies flat on her back. Tentatively, she runs her right hand down the flat of her stomach, but doesn't move it lower.

She feels like she's waiting for something, though she doesn't know what. She doesn't know why she's so anxious about this, when Tina has seen her naked and sweating more ways than she cares to remember.

"Are you touching yourself?" Tina whispers. For some reason, that tiny, breathless question sends a wave of liquid heat through Quinn's body. She feels her cheeks flush, and she chews on her lip. Slowly, Quinn moves her hand lower, brushing her fingertips over her hipbone, and then along the line of her pelvis.

"Tell me what you're doing."

"Uh, um," Quinn turns her head, quickly, because it seems strange to stare at Tina and say these things. "I'm touching m-my – my thigh." As she says it, it becomes true, and she shifts her legs apart, running the dull surface of her nails along the skin. It brings out goosebumps, and it tickles, faintly.

"Touch lower." Tina's voice is low and urgent.

Quinn's breath hitches, and she does as Tina demands – pushing her fingers between her lips, brushing over her clit. Her body is reacting more to the knowledge that Tina is watching her and directing her than it is from her own soft, gentle motions, but that's okay – it makes her feel slightly dirty, in a way, but also excited.

"Talk to me, Quinn," Tina murmurs.

Quinn turns her head and opens her eyes, and she can see that Tina is watching her. She wonders if Tina is touching herself, but she doesn't have the temerity to ask – instead she rubs, harder, against herself, and feels her own stomach muscles tighten.

"It feels good," Quinn says, and her voice is a broken, breathy gasp. "I wish it was you."

Tina lets out a muffled moan, and it makes Quinn's heart hammer in her chest. It started out slowly, at first, a rising heat that began with her flushed cheeks, and then spiraled downwards, all through her body. Now it makes her feel impatient and tight, like a plucked harp string, and her breathing takes on a sharp, erratic rhythm.

Slowly, Quinn dips a finger inside of herself, and it makes her body buck and slide upwards. Tina reacts – Quinn can hear her panting, and she lets out a low whine. It's an odd game between them, like tug-of-war, and for every noise Quinn makes, it drags out another in Tina – which creates a spike of tension in Quinn, a quick hunger. It's easy, if she shuts her eyes, to imagine that Tiny really _is_ there beside her, breathing on her neck. She pushes her finger in, deeper, and lets herself moan as if it were Tina doing it.

"God, Quinn,"

Quinn can tell Tina is touching herself, now, because she knows that tone of Tina's voice – she can tell, by Tina's stuttered breath, that she's rubbing furiously at her own clit. It makes Quinn's body arch to picture it, and she slides a second finger inside of herself, a third. She crafts, almost simultaneously, the image of Tina lying naked and desperate and wanting on the sheets, a hand between her legs; and at the same time, she pretends that it's Tina slowly fucking her, instead of herself. She feels herself grow hot and slick and tight, and she grinds her own pelvis, hard, into the meat of her hand.

Quinn keeps her eyes shut, but she can hear Tina – Tina is moaning and moving, and her breath is heavy and erratic. Quinn remembers the sensation of Tina's mouth on her clit, her tongue rolling over it – she makes a whining noise at the memory, and she pulls her fingers out to press and rub furiously. Her hips take up a twitching, dancing rhythm, and she can tell by the way her stomach tightens almost painfully that she's close.

"I'm going to come," Quinn gasps, and at the same time, she does it – her body jerking, once, and clenching; she clamps her teeth together and hisses out a breath. She spasms, and shakes, and her blood surges, pounding, through her body. She feels winded and tingly – her legs are weak – but she peels her eyes open to look at her laptop screen.

Quinn can see Tina's profile, and that her eyes are also glued shut; she has only a moment to take that in before Tina, too, arches – and then her face makes a grimace, somewhere between pain and pleasure, and the high-pitched moan that always sends a shiver down Quinn's spine comes from behind her lips. Quinn smiles, because she doesn't know if she's ever really watched Tina, like this – she doesn't know if she's ever seen those particular wrinkles between her eyebrows, or seen her lips pressed together so hard.

"Baby," Quinn murmurs softly, and she turns on her side and pulls the laptop closer. It creates an almost physical pain in Quinn to stare at Tina like this – panting and pliant – and not be able to hold her. Quinn loves the minutes right after Tina orgasms, because she's so soft and limp and loose; Quinn is able to gather her up and hold her close, and whisper into her hair. She loves hearing Tina's heart pound, and the way Tina's breath falls, moist and sticky, against her skin.

"Mm," Tina swallows, finally cracks an eye open. "Why haven't we been doing this the whole time?"

Quinn laughs quietly. "Only three more weeks."

Tina turns, slowly, and faces Quinn. "I miss you tossing and turning all night."

"I miss you snoring," Quinn replies. "I miss you stealing the blankets."

"I miss your stupid blowdryer at four in the morning," Tina mutters, a small smile on her face. "I miss your Starbucks smell."

"I miss your awful taste in music."

Tina hums, and Quinn can tell that she's happy.

And Quinn realizes - even though she misses Tina - that she's happy, too.

Maybe the happiest she's ever been.


	3. Part Three

Part 3: _this is the golden age of something good, and right, and real_

Quinn hates their new dorm, because it's smaller and – well, there's less privacy. Already there have been _two_ noise complaints, and a third just wouldn't look good. Quinn isn't exactly friends with the current RA, because – well – she's one of those girls Quinn snubbed back during her first semester at Yale, and she holds a grudge. Quinn thinks that the threat to get them kicked out of the dorms might actually hold some weight, if the girl (her name is Audrey, but who cares?) decides to make an issue of it. Quinn thinks she probably would.

It means both of them are a bit sexually frustrated, and Quinn thinks it might be worse than the ten weeks she spent in Greece, because at least _then_ she didn't have all the lidded glances Tina throws her way, or the subtle, suggestive touches. Quinn's belly tightens and then drops every time Tina bites her lower lip and gives her that particular _look_ – the one that makes her want to literally drop her backpack and shove Tina into the nearest bathroom.

(They did that, once. Quinn thinks the freshman who walked in on them is a little traumatized.)

They have to study in the library, or elsewise no _studying _will go on; Quinn thinks it's sort of amusing that they have to apply all these rules to themselves – she's never thought of herself as a particularly sexual creature, until Tina. Even her fling with Santana was just that – a fling. It was motivated by sexual desire and a quest for release, nothing more; but with Tina, things are different. That particular _differentness_ (whatever it is.. though Quinn has a sneaking suspicion she knows) is what changes everything; and her craving for Tina is like a beast inside of her. It has a very real and thriving hunger, and she surprises herself sometimes with the extent of it.

Tina is the same way – maybe worse. Quinn is the one who suggested they make themselves study in public, because too often will Tina push aside the textbooks in favor of Quinn (Tina's the reason for the noise complaints, too!).

Quinn supposes she can't put _all_ of the blame on Tina, because it was _her_ fault they had to pay for a new dorm bed, but _whatever,_ who's keeping score anyway? (Tina is.)

Today, however, Quinn thinks her plan to regulate studying to the library might just backfire, because Tina is sitting very close to her at their table, and she keeps pulling her bottom lip into her mouth and giving Quinn dark, sly looks from beneath her eyelids. It makes a faint buzzing noise start in her ears, and she clenches her jaw against the way her cheeks redden. Tina hasn't even done anything yet, except give her that look – and here Quinn is, reacting like a teenage boy. It's embarrassing.

It makes her heart race.

"Quinn.." Tina whispers into the quiet of the library.

"No," Quinn says, firmly. "No, Tina."

"_Quinn_," Tina whines, slipping her hand beneath Quinn's skirt, to drag her fingers over Quinn's knee.

Quinn's heart skips a beat, and she swallows.

"We can't." Quinn clears her throat. She glances around the library – there's a shaggy-haired boy sitting two tables over, and a student shelving books across from them. Quinn is nervous that someone might notice the way Tina's thumb is slipping over the skin of her leg, tracing the ridges of her knee. "We have to spend another hour studying, then we can go back –"

"No," Tina interrupts, and it makes Quinn look to her sharply. "Let's do it here."

Quinn's face goes blank with shock, for a moment, before she needles her eyebrows at Tina. "You've lost your mind."

Tina chuckles, and scrapes her nails higher on Quinn's thigh.

The buzzing noise grows louder.

"Okay, Tina." Quinn closes her textbook. "We can stop studying. Let's go back to the room."

Tina smirks at her, and then draws close. Quinn freezes, her eyes widening, because she's afraid any noise or sudden movements will bring attention their way, and well – Tina's hand slides higher, and the feeling of Tina's palm against her skin sends lightning shooting through Quinn's body. Tina's breath hits her neck first, and Quinn suppresses a shiver; then Tina's lips ghost over the place directly below her ear, and Quinn blinks hard to stop herself from moving. Tina's hand wanders over the curve of Quinn's leg, venturing higher up, and Quinn bites her lip at the tiny, soft kisses Tina peppers against her neck.

She's lightheaded and it's hard for her to breathe; she's clutching her pen hard in her fingers. She thinks her heart is in danger of beating right through her chest.

"Let's go," Quinn squeaks, and attempts to shove herself away from the table.

"We're doing it here," Tina murmurs, and flicks her tongue over Quinn's ear.

"Oh my God."

Tina's fingers begin to pick at the hem of Quinn's underwear, and Quinn feels heat flood her body – she has a hard time breathing through it.

"Tina," Her breath strangles on the name. Her hand flies down and grips Tina's wrist forcefully through her skirt, her eyes darting around wildly. "Not here. We can't—"

"Yes we can," Tina breathes, and presses her mouth to the space between Quinn's shoulder and neck.

"I mean not – _right here!_" Quinn jerks away from her, panting. "There are _people._"

Tina glances around, and then shrugs. She turns back to Quinn, who edges away from her. "Let's go upstairs or something, Tina."

Quinn can't believe she's even considering this, but the way Tina's eyes light up makes her laugh quietly. Tina stands up quickly, and Quinn follows her – she looks back, a little worriedly, at the pile of books and notecards and pens on the table – but Tina is pulling her forward by the wrist towards the stairs.

Quinn gnaws on her lip on the entire upward climb, and she's breathless by the time Tina pushes her behind a bookshelf. This particular library isn't well visited on most days, and today – luckily for them – it's pretty much deserted.

"You still have to be _quiet,_" Quinn whispers.

Tina's eyebrows raise. "_You _have to be quiet."

Quinn's heart starts thundering at the way Tina is looking at her, and she sucks in a surprised breath right before Tina pushes their mouths together. Tina's kiss is crushing and brutal, and Quinn moans quietly into Tina's mouth – she grips the back of her neck, hard, at the sharp scrape of Tina's teeth against her lips. "Oh, fuck," Quinn whispers quietly when Tina pulls away to nip at the skin on her collarbones. Tina's hand slides beneath the hem of Quinn's skirt, and then beneath her underwear, diving between her legs.

Quinn holds Tina close, and presses her face into Tina's shoulder to muffle the way her breath wants to explode out of her. Quinn can hear Tina's own breathing, strained and heavy, echo against her ear, and she moans quietly at the feeling of Tina's fingers slipping against her clit.

Tina holds her when her knees start to feel like jelly, and her motions become quick and fierce the harder Quinn breaths. Quinn's fingers grip into tight fists in the material of Tina's jacket, and she clenches, hard, because a pressure begins deep inside of her and radiates outwards.

"Shh, baby," Tina whispers, because Quinn groans. Tina knows exactly where to touch her; how hard and how fast to make Quinn come undone. She doesn't know if she ever thought there would be another person on this planet who knows her body as well as – or better than – she does.

"God," Quinn gasps, and squeezes her eyes shut when it crashes over her. Her hips still, and then take up a furious rocking motion – Tina tries to push her against the bookshelf, to keep her steady, but Quinn bucks and shudders, and bites her lip so hard she tastes copper on her tongue. It happens in one prolonged, twisting instant; then she exhales, and Tina holds her, running the palm of her hand down the length of Quinn's hair.

Tina kisses Quinn's forehead, then her cheeks, along the line of her jaw. Quinn lets out a loose whine, and then stands herself up shakily.

"That was not fair, Tina Cohen-Chang," Quinn mutters.

"You liked it," Tina says with a grin. She uses her hands to smooth down Quinn's hair, and she leans forward to kiss Quinn on the lips.

Quinn holds her close, cupping her face with both hands, and she slides her tongue along Tina's lower lip. Tina hums into her mouth, and Quinn curls her fingers in Tina's hair.

In a moment it turns desperate, and Tina whines, pushing her hips against Quinn. Quinn turns them, clumsily, because she doesn't want to stop kissing – and Tina knocks unsteadily into the bookshelf, rattling the books. It makes them both squeak and then giggle, breaking apart for an instant.

"Be _quiet,_" Quinn warns, trying to be serious.

Tina bites her lip and nods, tugging Quinn forward so that their bodies are molded together. Quinn grips her along the hips, and then quickly pushes her hand between them, into Tina's pants. Tina gasps, and fuses her mouth to the cradle of Quinn's neck. Quinn groans at how hot and wet Tina is – she hitches a breath at how easily her fingers slip against Tina. Tina gasps, rocking, when Quinn slides lower, and then pushes two fingers into her.

Tina is uttering tiny whimpers and moans, and Quinn hugs her harder. She can't help the way her belly tightens at the noises – but she is growing nervous, because Tina does this _every_ time, and it – damn, it's sexy, but they're in _public –_ "Tina!" Quinn hisses, when Tina grunts louder.

"Don't stop," Tina whispers, and her nails dig into Quinn's back.

Quinn swallows, and she slams her fingers into Tina harder and faster; she tries to control her own breathing, because Tina's is explosive and hot, and it makes her head spin.

They groan in unison when Tina grows tighter around Quinn's fingers, and Quinn bites her lip, strangling a moan, when Tina writhes against her. Tina sinks her teeth into Quinn's shoulder when her body loses control, and Quinn presses her face into Tina's hair. It's one long, hot heartbeat before Tina pulls back and swallows, and Quinn gently pulls out of Tina.

"You okay?" She whispers.

Tina nuzzles her face into the crook of Quinn's neck, and her arms come up to hold her, loosely.

Quinn's fingers brush Tina's jaw, and then she pulls her face back. Quinn smiles, and she kisses Tina gently.

Tina's smile is sleepy and sated, and it makes Quinn warm inside.

"I love you," Quinn whispers without thinking.

Tina pauses, and her eyes go wide. Quinn realizes, at the last moment, what she did – and then her eyebrows draw together in worry.

"Crap." Quinn swallows. "I wanted to – ah. I wanted to tell you that differently."

Tina smiles, and lets out a small laugh. "Did you mean it?"

Quinn releases a breath. "Yeah."

"Well, you're lucky, then, Quinn Fabray." Tina squeezes her. "I love you, too."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "I _know._ I just wanted it to be kind of – special. The first time we said it to each other."

Tina chuckles. "Quinn, we've been together for almost a year. Most lesbians say it within a week."

Quinn pokes Tina hard on the cheek. Tina knows how sensitive Quinn is to the _L_ word – and not _love._ She hates being labeled, and she hasn't allowed anyone to call her a lesbian, even though her number of female lovers has officially outpaced the male ones. What does it matter? Who needs labels, anyway?

"We're not most _people,_ T." Quinn says pointedly. "And I still wanted it to be special."

"This is still sort of special." Tina says with a wry grin. "Who knew I'd get Cheerios captain Quinn Fabray to fuck me in the library?"

"Tina!" Quinn scowls.

"What?" Tina smirks. "I did sort of think it would be more of a challenge, but – hey!"

Quinn pinches Tina on the forearm. "Stop."

Tina sighs, then leans forward to kiss Quinn quickly on the lips. "Well, you're just gonna have to put up with me bragging, because you _love_ me."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "You're insufferable."

"Can we get a cat, now, too?" Tina asks, tucking Quinn's arm into her own. She leads them away from the nook they had been hiding in, and her voice lowers. "I'd really like to hit all of the clichés we can all at once."

Quinn ignores her.

"Oh, and we are _so_ adopting a baby from China." Tina grins.

Quinn sighs, because she knows Tina is going to keep spouting off as many stereotypes as she can for the rest of the night.


End file.
